Senses
by miss selah
Summary: He has scentsight, and everyone has a unique smell that separates them from everyone else. Everyone but her. [KagomeSesshoumaru] [Week Three ‘Sweet’ challenge]


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**Senses**

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Dog demons, perhaps more so than any other breed of demon, used their noses - their sense of smell - over their eyes. They could still see with their eyes, the same way that humans could still smell, but the nose was more honest than the eyes, because people may be able to lie with body language, but their was no way to lie with scents, so they trusted it. Not to mention that no matter how good their sight may be, it had nothing on their noses. Sesshoumaru, as a ruling class demon, was no exception.

He saw things, not in colors and lines, but in scents: various hues and nuances of smells that painted the world around him more colorfully than sight ever could. More often than not, he didn't remember in pictures either, but in smells. Events, people, places, all covered in their own scent, marked only by the people that had been there. Everything, everyone, had distinct scents that was theirs, and only theirs, and it was buried beneath those they knew, those who had touched them, but the underlying scent was always them.

Jaken, the water kappa - his oldest and most trusted ally, still smelt (no matter how much time he spent with humans) like the swamp waters that he was born in, more than a millennia ago. It was comforting to Sesshoumaru to know that some things, no matter the age or the place or the person, never change.

Rin, the little girl-child that he had taken as his charge, smelt of something far less comforting - she smelt of death, the constant, never ending death of skin cells. barely masked by the scent of the flowers that he permitted her to pick. He didn't know what fear was, but if he did, he would have been frightened of the way that humans were born dying. He had hoped, by keeping himself distanced from humans, that he wouldn't have to see it, wouldn't have to be effected by it.

He had failed.

Inuyasha, with his bare feet and consistent garb, smelled of sweat and Earth, and when he moved, the other scents around him curled like smoke.

Sango, the warrior, smelled like Miroku, the monk, and with his sight of scent, sometimes it was hard to tell where one ended and the other began. In his head, they were one being - the companion - since they were just a continuation of the other person anyways.

Shippo and Kirere, the children, the animals, smelt of fur and flesh, and held the lively scent of immortals as well as the stink of mortality. Both smelled like their companions, and Sesshoumaru wondered what they would smell like when the humans finally died, and they had to wear their own scent, not the scent of the pack.

Naraku, with out question, reeked of death and destruction and miasma. He stank of evil.

Everyone and everything had their own unique scent, constant and unremarkable. Everyone. . . _except her._

_Sweet_. . . It was the first thing that he had ever thought about her smell. It was un-placable, the smell lying somewhere in between flowers and fruit, powder and power. It was tempting, and she was so soft and kind and sweet, that it only served to fascinate him all the more.

He buried his nose in her throat, nibbling and enticing and sating his own curiosity as he worshiped her body the way it deserved to be worshipped. The way Inuyasha could try to, but would always fail. The thought of Inuyasha trying to possess the girl with the ever changing scent, who was remarkable in her odd anonymity, filled Sesshoumaru with a possessive rage that made him want to ravage her all the more.

Never let it be said that Sesshoumaru would deny himself anything. . .

_Kagome_. . . it was all he could call her scent now. A blend, a perfect blend, of scents and tastes and her. He knew, from her smell, what she would taste like. The complete and utter lack of mystery intrigued him more than any courtesan's plot ever could. It excited him, the hunter in him, to know what his prize was. It made the claiming all that more enjoyable.

Her hair smelled like citrus and slid like silk through his clawed fingers, here, at her neck, she smelled like Jasmine and Vanilla. He dipped lower, to her breasts, and tried to breath, tried to hear his own thoughts over her sighs and moans. Tried to remember that he had a purpose, had a reason.

Tried to remember what that reason was.

He slipped his hand along the hard line of her under wire, and then beneath to gently stroke her breasts, before he slipped his fingers out and gave them a tentative sniff. Baby's breath, talcum powder, roses. . .

He didn't go lower, because he didn't need to smell her to know that there, she smelled like sex. But he wanted to. . . oh, he wanted to. . .

He scented earth and sweat permeating the air before he heard Inuyasha cry out for Kagome. Frantic, gasping, she rearranged her clothes and gave Sesshoumaru one last, hard kiss before he left her, opting to fight another day. Avoid conflict, get another chance to place her scent . . .

He watched from the tree line, bemused, as she tried - and failed - to explain to Inuyasha why the scent of sandalwood and iron, Sesshoumaru, flavored the air.

She left, but Sesshoumaru remained, testing the spot where she had lain for scents. It was unique, perhaps the most unique he had ever scented, but he knew it had to be something other than '_mine_.'

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_Anonymous Fangirl - She smells lyk sweet. Enjoy your sensory assault!_


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